


Apropos of Nothing

by Anonymous



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Gerromandering, Neuroatypical Roman, Roman totally failing at, is the ship name and I will die on this hill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:29:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21509593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Out of nowhere, Roman says, "Did I ever tell you about the time I jerked off on my office window?"
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Comments: 16
Kudos: 65
Collections: Anonymous





	Apropos of Nothing

Out of nowhere, Roman says, "Did I ever tell you about the time I jerked off on my office window?"

They're on a plane to Singapore. They have been on a plane to Singapore for a very long time, and there's still a very long time to go. Having a private jet is nice, but the Earth is still a pretty big planet and going around it takes a while.

Roman was doing fine until his mechanical pencil ran out of lead—this is not, he thinks furiously, a metaphor for anything—halfway through _World's Hardest Sudoku vol. 4_. Sure, he also has sixteen sudoku apps on his phone, but they're missing the tactile satisfaction of the 0.5mm lead scratching across the soft recycled paper, the way he can jot tiny numbers in the corners of the boxes until all the logic falls into place with a little whoosh and zing. This leaves him looking out the window, which leads to him thinking about windows, which leads, as everything does sooner or later, to him saying something inappropriate to Gerri.

She is unfazed. "You did not _tell_ me about it, no," she says, sipping her third coffee. Roman doesn't think about why he keeps track of things like how much coffee she's had, how many cocktails she has at parties (never more than two), how fast she's tapping her foot (andante, despite the coffee and the Modafinil, which tells him how tired she is). It's just a thing he does.

What had she said? Oh, right. "Meaning what?" he asks, hoping he didn't space out too long before replying. Stimulants make him tired so he's wrenching his body clock around through sheer force of will, and right now it feels like 29:30 p.m.

She gives him Fondly Exasperated Look #3. "Meaning your father has closed-circuit cameras in every office, Roman."

He leans back in his padded chair and swings one leg over the arm rest, delighted. "Awww, were you spying on me?"

Aha, he's gotten Shifty Eyes and Small Smile, one of his favorites of her expressions, the one that means she's trying to be a hard-ass but it's totally not working because he is just too devastatingly charming and sexy. The one that means whatever she's about to say isn't technically a lie but also isn't true. "No, I was just doing my job. I periodically review the footage to make sure no one's," she coughs, "misusing company property."

"You personally do that? Shouldn't it be some Officer Krupke's job down in security?"

Less Fond Exasperated Look #1, also known as Roman, Use Your Brain. She says patiently, "The cameras sometimes capture sensitive information that shouldn't leave the upper echelons of the company."

"Like the co-COO washing the window with wank."

"Among other things." She crosses her legs. He savors the rasp of stocking on stocking.

"So," Roman says, and he draws it out because they both know what he's going to say but they both also enjoy there being this moment where he could stop himself, he absolutely could, and he absolutely never does. "Did you get off on it? Watching me?"

Ambiguous Arched Eyebrow, which could mean she's playing the game, or could mean she wants to throw him out of the airplane without a parachute. "Don't compound your disgusting behavior with this even more disgusting speculation about my personal life."

His stomach swoops like they just hit turbulence, but if they're playing the game, he can't take no for an answer, and if they're not... he's still congenitally incapable of taking no for an answer. "I think you did," Roman says, a little breathless. "You just couldn't stop yourself, could you? The forbidden allure of watching the boss's son jerkin' the gherkin, right there in the office? I bet you saved the footage to your spank bank and it kept you wet for a week."

"Obviously I did no such thing," Gerri says, unsmiling. Is this the time he goes too far? He's falling, no parachute, no net. 

"No?" he manages.

"Of course not," Gerri says, taking her turn to draw it out—and then she lets him off the hook. "I have an excellent memory."

Roman remembers how to breathe. There's definitely some lead in his pencil now.

Gerri locks her eyes on his, holding his gaze so tightly it's like she's ocularly squeezing his balls. "Roman," she says, low and intense.

"Gerri," he says, trying to match or mock her tone, not succeeding at either.

She leans forward. "Never, _ever_ use the phrase 'jerkin' the gherkin' anywhere near me, ever again."

With excruciating timing, Cabella comes out of the galley with a coffee pot and a smile. "More coffee, Mr. Roy, Mrs. Kellman? Perhaps a cheese plate? Or let me know if you'd like me to dim the lights so you can nap."

It's going to be a long flight.


End file.
